


Thoughts of the Other

by Stariceling



Series: Resemblance and Remembrance [4]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, M/M, Pastfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stariceling/pseuds/Stariceling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Honda dreams of another life. (Final piece in the Resemblance series.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thoughts of the Other

**Author's Note:**

> The final piece of the Resemblance series. There was actually at least one more fic that was meant to come between Sickness in Dreams and this one, and I still hope to finish it at some point, but I don't think you absolutely need it to read this one.

News always finds a way to trickle down into our world, where it can spread as fast as thought. At least, news like this spreads that fast, news that is worth our very lives. The Pharaoh’s patrols are taking people off the street. Petty criminals. People who seemed to live perfectly normal lives until they were discovered. They’re looking to stamp out every possible connection to this latest attempt on the Pharaoh’s life.

Something lurks behind the whispers and rumors. People want to have faith, but they can’t help thinking, are you one of the ones who will be snatched up? Are you one of the ones they’re looking for? Am I next?

If they saw me, would they know? Would they see right through me? I can’t risk it, not now. Even as garbled as the descriptions of this assassin are, in the wake of the far more pressing news of people being taken off of the streets, I know who they are seeking. Impossible as it feels, I know it in my bones.

They are searching for him. That playful, dangerous child I have watched growing into a man these past few years. I had thought him a petty thief. Not harmless, there is a dangerous streak to him, but I hadn’t thought it could cause this sort of uproar. I had never begrudged him what he was, though I prayed for his safety. I was in no condition to pass judgement for his crimes, his life. I still am not.

I had never suspected he would do something like this, never thought that all of Egypt would one day be against him.

I would be expected to seek him as well. I know I would be expected to turn him in if I could find him. I know perfectly well what is expected of me, as well as what the consequences would be if I should fail.

I have already made my decision, there is no need to think on it further. I will not betray him.

I have watched him mature. He is almost my child, I care so strongly for him. I hadn’t truly realized it before, but without him I would have no one else. My home, my family, my friends, all given up when I came to this city. I have no one else to care for.

I wonder when he caught me. There is no denying now that I am caught. My heart, my very life lies helpless as a flightless bird in his claws. Yet somehow I keep trusting that he will not destroy me. My little wildcat, lovely and dangerous. I wonder if there is any softness left in him at all.

I don’t even know where to go to find him. I never let myself think about it before now, but I simply met him before. He would simply appear before me, as if we were drawn together without thought. I do not know where to look for him, what hiding places he favors. He knows to come here for me, but will he?

I may not even be able to see him again before he is caught.

Like a feral cat, he never lets himself get too close. He may let you feed him, shelter him, maybe even pet him, and I do, but he’ll always be wild. He’ll always leave eventually. I had accepted this, because he always comes back. Not until I am forced to face the possibility of him never coming back that I realize I don’t want to lose my wildcat.

With a truly feral cat, no matter how much you love one you can never own it. I wonder just how wild he really is. Is there any way I can keep him? Keep him safe. Keep him close. Keep him for myself.

How am I going to tame my feral child, even if I can find him?

Then, faster than thought, he’s here. He blows in, looking so damn proud of himself. Doesn’t he know what will happen to him when he’s caught? He must. I smell blood on him.

Faster than thought, he’s in my arms. He’s startled, ready to show his claws any second. I whisper to him, stroking his back, “My wildcat, my precious wild one.” I had thought for a moment I would never see him again. Now I want to never again let him out of my sight.

It will be hard for him. I know how I was, having to flee my own homeland years ago, and he is already wild and stubborn. If I can only get him out of the city. . .

There is pain in those wild eyes. They must have hurt him. The blood I smell may be his, but I can’t make myself let go to check. It will be far worse if they ever catch him.

He smiles, as always. So confident and foolish. So sure of his own powers.

My eyes rest on his scar. It’s old, even older than the bond we share. I know he knows pain. I know he is strong. In perfect honesty, I think I fear for myself more than for him, because if anything happens to him my heart will have nowhere to go.

He moves to bite my neck, his own odd gesture of affection. I want to kiss his neck in return, but my attention in too fixed on that scar. He knows pain. I do not wish him to know any more.

I don’t know how to explain this feeling to him in his own language, or, to be honest, in any language. I kiss the scar, run my tongue over its rough surface, willing him to somehow understand.

He twists, trying to fight his way out of my arms. I can’t let him go. I know that if he leaves now I’ll never see him again. I can’t give him up. I can’t let him be caught. To everyone else he is just another assassin, the latest in a generation’s worth of failed killers. To me he is everything.

“Don’t go.” I will him to understand. This child I have silently cared for. He is a child no longer, I suddenly realize. He is something new, something more. He has evolved into something just as precious.

If I was going to tame him, I should have started years ago. I don’t even want to see him tame, just live and whole. I want so desperately to protect him, never to cage or tame him. I don’t know if he can see the difference anymore.

I let my arms fall, hoping he’ll choose to stay. We can escape together, start a fresh life somewhere else.

“Don’t go.” I kiss his forehead, unable to stop myself. There is so much more I need to learn to say to him, so much more I want to offer him. My precious wild one, my only.

Rebellious eyes burn into me until I want to be able to catch him up in my arms again. He won’t give up his freedom, not for me.

He needn’t give it up. I don’t wish to change him. We could flee to another land. I know it’s possible. He would always be free, and he would always have me to shelter and release him as he wanted, if only he would let me save him just this once.

I can’t explain. I have no words to tempt him with, only myself, and that is not enough. He slips away from me with a curse, and my heart goes with him, to death.  


* * *

Honda woke. The phantom pain of separation from his dream was almost physical. For a moment he lay gasping as if he had forgotten to breathe. Maybe he had.

Ryou stirred beside him in sympathy, and Honda tried to be still.

“It’s nothing, love, go back to sleep,” he whispered.

The words woke him. Ryou blinked slowly at him, then rubbed at his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

Ryou wasn’t buying it. He snuggled closer, linking his arms around Honda’s waist. Honda knew there was no evading his concern.

“I’ll tell you about it in the morning,” he stalled. He didn’t know how to explain the dream, still so clear in his head. He had no idea what he could say. Ryou eyed him suspiciously until he said, “I just had a sad dream. Just. . .” he sighed. Just a dream, he told himself. “A sad dream.”

As if he somehow knew that Honda needed him close, Ryou moved his head from the pillow to Honda’s chest and didn’t pester him. Honda knew this respite from questioning was only until morning, but he was still thankful.

That scar. . . he could still feel it under his lips. That face. . .

It wasn’t a dream so much as a memory. Did Ryou ever have dreams like that? Dreams of another him, long dead and dust. Dreams of someone who was him for the duration of the dream, yet someone whose life, mind, and heart were not his own.

Honda held Ryou close and safe, as he had wanted to do for another in his dreams and been unable to.  


* * *

In the morning, the first thing Honda saw was Ryou’s smiling face. He smiled back instinctively, always glad to have Ryou so close.

“Feeling better?”

“Hm?”

“You said you had a bad dream last night,” Ryou prodded gently, “A sad dream.”

Honda puzzled over that for a moment, but he couldn’t remember any dreams. “Did I?”

Ryou sighed.

“I don’t remember.”

The worried look on Ryou’s face, said he didn’t believe that. Honda had to exclaim, “I really don’t remember now!”

Ryou laughed at Honda’s outburst. “I guess that’s good.” He studied Honda’s face for a minute, but then seemed to decide he was being honest, because he moved to kiss him softly, trusting him without a quarrel. 

Honda pulled Ryou down to hug him. It was only a dream, after all. He would rather be thinking about what he could do with Ryou right now than about some dream that had woken him up last night.

“It couldn’t have been important,” he told Ryou. After all, it was already forgotten.


End file.
